


Take My Breath Away

by TrueIllusion



Series: Slices of Life in Schitt's Creek [8]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Allergies, Anaphylaxis, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27426757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: “You’re so sexy when you chop vegetables,” Patrick purred, wrapping his arms around David’s waist from behind and hooked his chin over David’s right shoulder.“Mmm… you’re just saying that because you don’t like chopping onions,” David said, the tone of his voice reflecting his indignance at being saddled with the task.“Maybe…” Patrick let his voice trail off, his fingers brushing along David’s waist before moving back to his own task of preparing shrimp for the paella meal kit they’d ordered. “Or maybe I just really like watching you work with your hands.”***An evening of domesticity and marital bliss at the Rose-Brewer cottage is unexpectedly turned upside down.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Slices of Life in Schitt's Creek [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852009
Comments: 13
Kudos: 156





	Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to blackandwhiteandrose, as always, for the votes of confidence along the way (and the title I couldn't _not_ use), and to PrettyTheWorld for helping me put on the finishing touches.
> 
> This is the first story I've finished in a month, so I hope you enjoy, and that you're all hanging in there. It's a tough time for many reasons... stay strong and know that you are loved.

“You’re so sexy when you chop vegetables,” Patrick purred, wrapping his arms around David’s waist from behind and hooked his chin over David’s right shoulder.

“Mmm… you’re just saying that because you don’t like chopping onions,” David said, the tone of his voice reflecting his indignance at being saddled with the task.

“Maybe…” Patrick let his voice trail off, his fingers brushing along David’s waist before moving back to his own task of preparing shrimp for the paella meal kit they’d ordered. “Or maybe I just really like watching you work with your hands.”

“I can think of some other things you can watch me work with my hands…” David raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Later…” Patrick winked, casting David a salacious look that dissolved into laughter as David shimmied his shoulders and leered at him.

Moments like this made Patrick glad he’d decided to make room in their budget for a meal kit delivery service. At first, it had just been a way to get a better variety of food without having to drive to Elmdale, but cooking a meal with his husband had become Patrick’s favorite way to spend the evening after a long day at the store. They teased each other, laughed together, and almost always enjoyed whatever they’d made, and tonight was sure to be no exception.

After about 45 minutes of dancing, laughing, and singing impromptu karaoke with a wooden spoon ‘microphone,’ they were sitting down at the table, opening a bottle of white wine and admiring David’s near-professional plating handiwork before digging in.

David, as he always did, compared the meal to something he’d had in Madrid -- no doubt at a five-star gourmet restaurant -- before their conversation turned toward the call David had gotten from Moira earlier that day. It had been something about a fourth film in the _Crows_ franchise, which somehow sounded even stranger than the third installment, particularly to hear Moira’s explanation over speakerphone -- peppered with unorthodox words and equally unique pronunciations.

David was about halfway through a spot-on impression of his mother when a rush of heat came over Patrick’s face, his tongue and lips starting to tingle. Assuming he’d eaten a particularly spicy bit of pepper, Patrick reached for his water glass and took a drink, still nodding at David, even though the uncomfortable set of sensations in his face and throat were making it difficult to pay attention.

“Patrick?” David’s voice brought Patrick back, making him suddenly aware of a loud ringing in his ears that eclipsed nearly everything else in his consciousness. A wetness trickling down his arm made him realize his hand was shaking, the water in his glass sloshing over the edge and onto his wrist and the table before he managed to set it down. “You okay, honey? What’s wrong?”

Patrick blinked as he took a breath to answer David, realizing that his tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth, and each inhalation felt like he was sucking in air through a straw. The edges of his vision started to narrow as David continued speaking, his words now unable to overpower the ringing in Patrick’s ears. Patrick blinked again, struggling to stay awake -- a sudden, sharp pain in his left thigh the last thing he felt as the darkness tugged him under.

***

When Patrick came to, it took him a moment to realize where he was -- in the back of an ambulance, with a petrified-looking David sitting next to him, holding his hand.

“Hi, honey.” David’s voice trembled as he reached out to brush a stray curl from Patrick’s forehead. Even in his addled state, Patrick could see tears glistening in David’s eyes that he quickly blinked back.

“You had an allergic reaction, Mr. Brewer,” an unfamiliar voice cut in from Patrick’s other side -- a paramedic. “It’s a good thing your husband had an epi-pen. Do you have a history of anaphylaxis?”

Patrick shook his head, realizing that there was an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He looked up at David, who was surreptitiously wiping away a tear.

“We think it was the shrimp,” David said, his voice soft. “I guess that can happen sometimes?”

Patrick’s eyelids were heavy, and he felt David’s thumb stroke the back of his hand.

“We gave you a shot of an antihistamine.” The paramedic’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact. “That might be making you sleepy.”

“Let yourself rest,” David whispered as Patrick drifted off again. “You’re gonna be okay.”

***

Patrick’s time in the ER was a blurry, tired haze, with David doing most of the talking while Patrick floated in and out. He’d been aware enough to know that they were keeping him overnight for observation, but as soon as that was decided, he’d succumbed once again, comforted by the sensation of David lightly stroking his hair.

The next time Patrick resurfaced, the first thing he was aware of was David’s warm body pressed against his, curled into his side. The closeness took Patrick back to the few nights they’d spent together in David’s twin bed at the motel, arms and legs entangled -- only this time with the addition of IV lines and lead wires.

Patrick shifted slightly in the bed, causing David to stir.

“Hey,” David said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.”

David’s brows drew together in concern, making Patrick regret his automatic response because the last thing he wanted to do was worry David again.

“Better,” Patrick added quickly, grateful to see David’s immediate relief. “Still not great, but… better.”

“Good… I’m glad.” A rueful smile tugged at David’s lips as he twined their fingers together. “So… no more shellfish for you.”

“Guess not,” Patrick mumbled, suppressing a yawn. “Why’d you have an epi-pen anyway?”

“Mmm… let’s save that story for another time. For right now… sleep.”

Patrick hummed, leaning his head against David’s shoulder as his eyes drifted closed, safe and secure in the arms of the man who had saved him in so many ways.


End file.
